"Thank you—and again: Do you know Miss Roma Clarke?"
"I have just seen her at Cliffdene," she answered.
"So she is not married yet?"
"Oh, no," Liane answered, trying to pass, but he caught her hand, exclaiming mockingly:
"Not married yet? Well, that is very good news to me. I will give you a kiss, pretty one, for that information."
"You shall not! Release me at once, you hound!" cried the girl, struggling to free herself.
But the insolent stranger only clasped her closer and drew her to him, the fumes of his liquor-laden breath floating over her pure brow as he struggled to kiss her shrieking lips.
And, absorbed in the conflict, neither one noticed a third person coming toward them from the town—an exceedingly handsome young man, who hurried his steps in time to comprehend the meaning of the scene before him, and then shot out an athletic arm, and promptly bowled the wretch over upon the wet sands.
"Lie there, you cur, till I give you leave to rise!" he thundered, planting his foot on the fellow's chest while he turned toward the young lady.
"Why, good heavens! Is it you, Miss Lester?" he cried, in wonder.